A former place this, a patch where roots rattle,
where stubble has a ferrous frizzle.
A long-truncated railroad stop
humming still with a faded reality.
As dry voices on the wind, they return
- the homesteaders and journeymen,
the harnessed horses.
Pants' cuffs carry kernels
long planted elsewhere.
Caps, coats, and carts
Sweat, rustle and creak,
an invisible locomotion of leaving and arrival.
employed upon an iron labor.
The tall dry weeds are talkative.
Brown boots seem to shuffle
as they wait here or idle.
A hollow clock clacks,
its innards now
are a nest for ticking birds.
Dandelions anticipate twirling flight
under a corn fed sun.
A mid-day heat thrums fragmented rails.
The station seems almost ready
to receive
as if its bygone world
had not forever disembarked.
Pro-Chore Wrestling Series and Extrudeur Pro Products
have hammered out a deal to
have the Pro-Chore Champion
go on tour with there company while they
conveince american homesteaders
to unionize and buy there Products.
They have partnered using Pro wrestling
to speak to the masses about the new
cotton powered batteries and wind turbine
that will revolutionize the world.
the CEO wishes to get Homesteader
to allow corpartions
to build mini apartment buildings on medium sized farms.
buildings with small stores and greenhouses.
they would have brickmaking capiblities and other works
that Produce Product all over the world.
He said if woorst comes to worst.
They will have buildings with infrastructure that will
last well into the next century.
We'll let you Know how it turns out.
Kelp Seaworthy Reports.
The chirr of parched insect wings –
bible dust preaching
from long abandoned boots.
Baked into the sky
homesteads linger on the burnt stumps
of exhausted summers.
Dander creaks on dry porches,
wardrobes and rooms open
in a denim haze.
Homesteaders planted a light here
then at days end
dug it up
in earthen mouthfuls.
Aprons were filled, table-tops charged.
Out of the back of a model T
a dapper man sells brushes,
he speaks of things unfarmed
the Brylcreem shine of city sights
until she is swept away.
Such moments go unrecorded
unless by chance you find
a strand of long hair
whipping astray on a skewed field gate.
~~~~
edit
The chirr of parched insect wings –
bible dust preaching
from long abandoned boots.
Baked into the sky,
homesteads linger on the burnt stumps
of exhausted summers.
Dander creaks on dry porches.
Fallow rooms open wardrobes
in a denim haze.
Homesteaders planted a light here,
then at days end,
dug it up
in earthen mouthfuls.
Aprons were filled,
table-tops charged.
Out of the back of a model T
a dapper man sells brushes,
he speaks of things unfarmed,
the Brylcream shine of city sights
until she is swept away.
Such moments go unrecorded
unless by chance you find
a strand of long hair
whipping astray
on a skewed field gate.
A former place this, a patch where roots rattle,
where stubble has a ferrous frizzle.
A long truncated railroad stop
humming still within a surrogate reality.
As dry voices on the wind, they return
- the homesteaders and journeymen,
the harnessed horses.
Pants' cuffs carry kernels
long planted elsewhere.
Caps, coats, and carts
employed again by the magnetic
echos of an iron labor.
The brown weeds are talkative.
Brown boots seem to shuffle.
A hollow clock clacks,
its guts a nest for ticking birds.
Dandelions anticipate
a faraway flight,
A mid-day heat
thrums fragmented rails.
The station seems almost ready
to receive
as if its world
had not disembarked forever.
The cabin, shuddered in the cold,
But the way was tough, so none grew bold,
So the cabin shed a lonely tear,
The days grew into months then years!
One day a young couple wandered by,
And the rustic cabin, they did spy,
They were looking for a quiet place,
To set up home, a little space!
So they settled for this piece of land,
Additions to the cabin planned,
The wife was pregnant, all could see,
So a room was added, to hold three!
The cabin sighed, with great content,
As the plans unfolded; the money spent,
It heard again the sound of happy laughter,
And smiled as it echoed from the rafters!
Soon progress grew; many others came,
And put up homes, the land was tamed,
The cabin wept; as it was so sad to see,
The clearing and cutting down of the stately trees!
It longed once more, for days of old,
When legends grew, through stories told,
Of brave homesteaders who struggled to tame the land,
And it was born, by, sweat, toil and two strong hands!
©03/03/2012
Fourth of July meant summer vacation road trips
Sun and fun amusement parks and the beach
Flip flops and freckles carefree slow days like pouring cold honey
Fast and forever friends were found around the corner
New discoveries found due to a natural curiosity
Sea Shells, sea creatures and sand castles
young adventurers like westward homesteaders
We had life by the tail, no fear we new infinity
We believed we were untouchable
This little island was our haven and we explored like we were owners
Palm trees and tall grass was different than our everday tall oaks at home
Vacation was once per year no time to stop for necessities
Blistering sun on tender fair skin
Marinate my flesh in sunscreen
Daddy would laugh and play like he was a king
Mama didn't seem to mind as much on vacation our summer fling
As i reach our town
There has been news of the spread
Homesteaders and livestock
In suffocate dead
Nothing has been spared
The outskirts it has reached
Townsfolk now in convoy
Their livelihood's breached
We hear on the radio
This black tide is all around
But it only comes from the rivers
From moist and wetted grounds
We reach the Rangers camp
Where scientists are meeting
To determine this phenomenon
This ebony black string
Many weeks pass
As this menace gathers speed
And its strong smell of oil
Lingers on this weed
A press conference has been called
The lab reports are back
Something deep below
Has made organic compounds attack
Has this been a freak of nature
What else do we not know
What else do we take for granted
That around us steadily grows
Many months have passed
The black tide slowly creeps
This phenomenon from below
Its as if our planet weeps
We have learnt to live in tandem
As we control it best we can
Maybe its always been here
Ever since time began
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-9.php